From Heaven
by Esherymack
Summary: Something I wrote to break writer's block- Allen's talking about Cross, and how he's always there. Major OOC, Character death, AllenxLenalee, Parental Cross. Under a new pen name
1. Allen

A/N: So in order to break my writer's block, I wrote this one-shot… I don't know if you'd call it extreme storyline editing or AU or canon or what, but I just stuck a very OOC Cross into some key events in the first two or three seasons of D. Gray-man, and then tacked some events I made up on… And there is character death in here… And I just wrote this to break writer's block. It's from Allen's POV :I He's talking about our OOC Cross and his exploits throughout Allen's life.

Disclaimer: I don't own D. Gray-man or any related characters, Katsura Hoshino does.

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><p>You're a huge part of our lives, old man.<p>

You, and Maria, and Timcampy… you're all huge.

You especially.

You saved me from the streets a second time. You patched up my wounds and kept me alive, and in your own crude way, you gave me the tough love I needed.

When we were in the Ark, you came in and pulled all of us out, and even though you frowned at our teenage stupidity- we ended up collapsed by your feet, clinging to each other, sniveling and shuddering in the revelation that we were alive—you just stood there and let us cling to your boots and ground us to the not-so-safe Earth, and eventually you knelt, to pry us off, but ended up as part of our awkward group hug that lasted for hours. I think at some point, we fell asleep—and when we woke, you were still there, with Lenalee's hands caught in your hair, and Kanda, Lavi, and I all trapping you down by being firmly attached to your front. Maria, who stood silently behind you, had a pallid hand on your shoulder, and Tim had squeezed into the middle of the group, probably looking to be included… and you still just sat there, with that stupid, confused look on your face that said you had no idea what we were doing, but you felt obligated to sit there, and was still there when Tiedoll, Miranda, and the remains of Anita's crew hurried up and froze, seeing their friends clinging to the infamous General Cross in such an unusual way.

Then, there was that time when you told me that when-if-the Fourteenth took over my mind and body, that I'd have to kill a loved one—and you hugged me, of your own free will—and I remember the warmth of your chest, the scent of the old black leather hat made up your coat—your familiar scent of cigarette smoke and fine whiskey caught in all the little folds and creases. Your hair—which was always so beautiful, lovingly cared for, with not a strand out of place—screened your face, even as you rested your chin on my head and broke the truth to me—and when you finished telling me about the Fourteenth, I felt something break, something you couldn't fix with crooked stiches, hasty cauterizing, or stolen bandages, like you so often had to administer, and I realized that I'd probably miss you most of all.

Then, you lost Judgment, leaving only that and a smear of blood as red as your hair. I remember Tim's mourning, and often missing him, as my last physical piece of you, I joined him by that drying pool of blood. I suffered while you were gone—I beat down the damned Fourteenth, and I won.

When I woke to you, maskless, thin, and your perfect hair crusted in the filth you loathe, gently brushing my hair from my eyes, murmuring comforting things, yet in your own world; I had lifted my hand—which looked cadaverous—and touched your shoulder. You jumped, and stared at me, and stared sternly into my eyes, with a look that asked, "Neah? Or Allen?"

When you saw my eyes weren't the gold you dreaded, but the same lively mercury, I remember – and to this I swear—you had tears in your eyes, and I couldn't help but think that you'd really lost it, you, the great General Cross.

After that, I found myself—steadily regaining the strength lost in the three weeks spent unconscious—staying by your side more and more. You seemed lost without your Innocence—when I asked what was wrong, you told me everything that had transpired with Judgment, and how Maria had blocked herself away, and not yet reopened the ability to be summoned. Tim, when he was let in, had nearly tackled you—pretty impressive for such a little golem. You'd grinned, and then you'd _really_ cried.

I guess you needed a good cry, to just let out all the pain you kept bottled up throughout your life.

We recovered, we beat down the Earl, and we eventually saved the world. Akuma didn't vanish—they just became harder to find. Mostly, they hid, and when they attacked, they died easily.

It eventually came to the point when you began to pressure Lenalee and I to get together—you'd finally regained your old spunk, with Maria back, and although Judgment never returned—in fact, the old weapon had destroyed itself—you didn't seem to care. Finally, I'd broken, and asked her out, while you restrained Komui and grinned like a fool.

So months began to turn to years, and eventually, with the exorcists blissfully unaware of the Akuma banding together for one last attempt at pleasing their dead master, Lenalee and I married, and for some reason, you were our priest. Even Komui seemed content—he remarked later that you had made a good choice in who you demanded your apprentice date.

Lenalee and I… our children had been born shortly before the first fight that led to us, the exorcists, realizing that the Akuma were back, and in greater number than we'd thought. We were yet again blissfully unaware of the impending crisis, only brought to light after we had happily named you the godfather of all Walkers to come.

Lenalee. I'd promised her that I'd be home again.

And now I'm laying here, with my head in your lap—you're here again, old man. My guts are basically spilling out onto the ground, and I know I'm dying.

I have my cold, bloody hands wrapped around one of yours. You're shaking—your idiot apprentice just took a deadly blow for you. The one you not-so-lovingly raised from a stupid, filthy street whelp, into a powerful, young exorcist. The man you managed to make me into—the one who fathered the children you came to love.

I'm dying, and it… annoys me. I would have thought I'd be scared. I guess I'm not, because I know you're gonna be there for my family, like you were before.

It hurts. My eyes are probably going flat by now, and my skin is already cold. You keep shaking my shoulders, keeping me awake.

"It's gettin' dark, old man. I think… my clock's run out. Don't you dare run away from my family, now," I whisper.

The last thing I see as my vision blackens is your muddy red gaze, glazed with shock and misted with unshed tears.

_Don't worry old man. I'll keep an eye on you yet_, I think, as the world blinks out one last time.

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><p>AN: First of all, that was writer's block. Second of all, I went hyphen crazy. Third of all, I killed Allen :I

I think I'm gonna write a sequel, from Cross's POV.

And just so you know, I had trouble staying in first-person XD

Read and review, please :3


	2. Cross

A/N: Chapter two of three! I'm gonna just wrap this up and mark it as complete—I got the magnificent *totally stupid* idea here! This time, from Cross's POV. Again, practicing with the character death and first person POV.

Warning: Another character death!

Disclaimer: Disclaimed.

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><p>Allen was dead.<p>

My idiot apprentice just let himself go. For me.

A worthless drunk.

God above, the kid had a family. Beautiful wife, if I do say so myself, and those twin girls—they look just like he did, before his hair turned white.

He honestly just forgot about them… for me?

I guess I meant more to him than I originally thought.

I guess I did a better job filling in for Mana than I thought.

The kid was always so lively. When we traveled around the world, he bothered me to no end with questions—"What's this?" and "What's that supposed to be?" One of his favorites was "Are we there yet?" Even more common was "Where _are_ we going!"

When it rained, he'd run ahead and splash in puddles—some child in him that hadn't been lost with Mana's death. When it snowed, he'd stick his tongue out to catch flakes. The whole time, Tim bounced along beside him, happier than I'd ever seen the golem.

I guess I was happier than I'd ever been, as well, even though I kept rolling my eyes and calling the kid an idiot.

When he requested that he handle his first Akuma by himself, I almost said no—by that point, I wasn't drinking for the hell of it, I was drinking to try and forget that something had broken my mind—suddenly I cared about the brat. I wanted to make sure that he'd never be hurt—then I remembered why I took him as an apprentice, and reluctantly accepted. I ended up having to save his ass—he couldn't get his Innocence straightened out in time.

Speaking of Akuma… that one that ripped Allen's guts out was still alive, and staring me down with that cold face that every Akuma had.

Hell if I cared.

I suppose I didn't know what I was doing when I told him about the Fourteenth. The kid just looked so devastated already—I didn't want to leave him like that. I left him with a hug, something I'd only ever done once before.

Funny, how the kid always complained I reeked of smoke, sex, and whiskey—and then there he was, leaning into me like I was his last root to Earth, and if his arms hadn't been bound at the time, I'm willing to bet he would have just held on and never let go.

The Akuma was still contemplating me. I suppose he was trying to decide how to kill me—blast me to smithereens or kill me slowly like he did Allen.

The night after my fateful, nearly-last meeting with Allen resulted in a case of shock so bad I'm surprised I didn't die then—something happened with Judgment, and the damn thing just shot at me. I think I fell out of the window—not quite sure though. I remember waking up weeks later, though, in some weird Noah place—I found out later it was their new Ark.

And Allen… he'd nearly lost his battle with Neah. I went back to the dreaded Dark Order, and found myself sitting by his bedside, while he was comatose, and in my own land, I hoped he would wake up soon. When he did—and honestly, I was afraid—I expected to see Neah looking at me from Allen's body. When I saw the kid's signature silver eyes, I started crying—not like I'll ever admit to that, though.

The Akuma was drifting closer.

C'mon, kill me. Fuck life.

Judgment had destroyed itself, but Maria came back. She was always faithful—even where Judgment couldn't be.

The Earl died under Allen's Crown Clown. I was there to watch, and I was there to tell him, "I'm proud of you, kid."

I guess just being there was enough for the kid—he and I got along great after the Holy Fatso died.

Say, it's my fault that the kid got together with that Lenalee in the first place. I basically grabbed them by the shoulders and demanded they kiss—while simultaneously restraining Komui, who'd gone into overprotective-brother mode.

So I guess it's my fault I ended up the godfather of two perfect little girls that I'd be proud to call my own flesh and blood—but that wouldn't be fair to Allen, now, would it?

Ah, _shit_.

Those girls and Lenalee were waiting for Allen and me to come back.

I think we both promised them we'd come back, together.

I guess as the saying goes, promises were made to be broken.

The Akuma that had been taking too fuckin' long to kill me finally made its move, and feeling those burning iron claws in my gut wasn't nearly as bad as the fact that I'd broken my half of the promise—that I'd be there and watch out for Allen's family, even if he died.

It didn't really hurt.

In fact, I felt more dismayed by the fact that I'd been wrapped up in my own self-pity and misery to even think of my other priorities—just like I always was, just like dad always said, I'm too selfish.

God, I'm so selfish.

Just send me to Hell. I don't deserve your being graced by your presence.

In hindsight, I don't even deserve the gift you gave me, with Allen.

I was supposed to watch over people. I could have done that from heaven—but then Allen died.

You can't watch over people from Hell.

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><p>AN: I'm sorta crying. I killed Cross.

And that ending is really. Really. Cheesy.

Oh, and the next (and last) chapter has a really sappy ending. Just so you know.

Evermore out!


	3. Lenalee

A/N: And the last chapter! This one is Lenalee's POV. First person. No character death this time, but a funeral and a surprise visit from Cross and Allen's ghosts.

I'm sorry for the cheesy, clichéd story, with the sappy ending. I just need to break this goddamned writer's block!

Disclaimer: Disclaimed!

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><p>I watched in dismay as the silver coffins containing Allen, my husband, and General Cross, who was basically my father-in-law, were lowered into the dark Earth.<p>

My daughters—Allen's daughters—were both clinging to my legs. They cried—they understood all too well that their daddy and Uncle Cross weren't coming back, ever.

Lavi stood by my side, his arm around my shoulders. Komui stood by the heads of the graves, his face solemn and drawn. Other exorcists and finders crowded around—I saw Krory and Miranda, Kanda, Old Bookman, and Tim among their ranks.

The golden golem flitted over, and rested on my head.

General Cross… he was a great man. Allen always seemed impartial to his 'shishou' until after the Earl was defeated. After that… the two got along like father and son.

Father and son. It seemed too perfect, too good to be true.

And it was.

The remaining Akuma, the ones that we never gathered up, were strong together—and we underestimated them. They'd launched attacks, and in this last one, we lost Allen and Cross.

Allen… he'd been my love since I laid eyes on him. I suppose it was a bit of a Romeo and Juliet kind of situation.

The finders had found Tim sitting in a pool of sticky blood, shared between master and apprentice—when the two had been brought back, Tim almost flew into the coffin with Cross. It was amazing, the bond that the golem had with his two masters.

The girls had stopped crying, but stood stock-stiff, their faces hidden in the folds of my dress. I rested a hand gently on the left-hand one's head—her name was Daysia, after one of the apprentices of General Tiedoll who had lost his life. Yes, _his_. Daysia was a name that had belonged to a young man—now it belonged to a young girl who bore it with pride.

The right-hand twin—Anita- shifted a bit closer, and I simply fell to my knees, sobbing.

Anita spoke up, then. She whispered, "Look, mommy—it's daddy and Uncle Cross."

I didn't look right then, but when I looked up, I was greeted with the misty forms of both Cross and Allen. Cross had a strange, lopsided grin on his face, and his hand rested on Allen's shoulder.

There was a third figure, a strange, beautiful woman. I took one look at her features, and realized with a slight shock that it was Maria—in spirit form.

I gave the spirits a small smile. Cross blinked, and then said softly, "C'mon, kid. We've got a meeting with the big man."

With that, they vanished.

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><p>AN: ARRRGH, the cliché!

ARRGH, the sappiness!

ARRRRRGH, the time! It's one in the morning!

ARRRRGH, please review!


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